


What's in a Name?

by TheFalconWarrior



Series: Life is a Rollercoaster (A Big, Twisty One) [9]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: According to Jason, Actually all the Batkids do, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian is confused, Fluffy fic, Gen, Jason Todd has an idea, Oh wait it was BRUCE, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Humor, Tim thinks it's wonderful, Whose idea was it to gather all these imbeciles together, Why Cassandra Why, Why is there like three ways to tag Jon Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior
Summary: AKA 5 Times Someone Used Damian’s Unofficial Full Name and 1 Time Someone Used the Official One. In which Jason makes an observation and a declaration, Dick, Tim, and Cass are his minions, Damian does not understand his siblings, Alfred approves, and Bruce tries something scary.





	1. 1 - Jason

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #9: Precious  
> Admittedly, not a word I usually associate with Damian Wayne. But siblings are precious and the youngest is always...well...the youngest.

It started, as these things usually do, with a lazy day at Wayne Manor. 

It started with all five, bored Wayne kids gathered in a family room. 

It started with an insult war. 

It started, as such _spectacular_ messes tended to, with Jason. 

The day was hot and humid. Wayne manor, being Wayne Manor, obviously had a central air conditioning system. But for reasons that Damian Wayne would never be able to comprehend, his older siblings preferred to lounge about the room with the windows thrown open and all the fans turned on, complaining about the heat and humidity, snapping and generally being irritable at each other. 

(He suspected it to do with the fact that they were all former street children. He would also deny he got that idea from Jason.) 

“Oi, Goldie,” Jason called from where he was laying on his back on the floor, a book held inches from his face. “Quit hogging the fan.” 

Dick looked up from the armchair he had plopped into. He was sitting sideways, legs dangling off one end, a Wayne Enterprises tablet set up on his knees. “There’s three fans in here, Jay, get your own.” 

“And there are FIVE of us in here,” Jason pointed out. “We can’t each have our own fans, Dickie, physically speaking. Thought ya knew basic math. Basic as in, ya know, preschool level.” 

“I’m the oldest, that gives me the right to my own fan.” 

Damian snorted. Entering the conversation was probably unwise, but he couldn’t resist every time any mention of some sort of...superiority entered the arena. (And no, it was _not_ because he was self-conscious about his place in the family, whatever Drake said, he was the blood son and—well. Never mind.) 

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Grayson.” 

Dick waved a hand at him, eyes still on his tablet. “Siblings 101,” he announced. “Oldest gets privileges.” 

“Siblings? Ah. No wonder none of us knew these rules.” 

Tim looked up, eyebrow raised. He was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, various folders and papers held down by all manner of paperweights—the television remote, a coffee mug, was that Damian’s pencil case?!--fluttering in the wind from the fans. 

“Really, Jason? Back to that? And I thought you were getting better at holding your own in a snark fight.” 

“Hah, speak for yourself. Middle child gets the short straw, right? Shove that fan over.” 

“I’m not the middle child, that’s Cass.” 

Across from Tim, Cass pointed a finger at Jason, eyes narrowed. “You can’t have my fan, Jason.” 

“Cass is the girl,” Jason said smoothly. “So she doesn’t count, which means we skip to the next person. And that’s you, Timbo. Siblings 101.” 

“Sounds more like Siblings 203,” Dick interjected. 

“And that’s because I am better educated than any of you.” 

“In the art of family?” Damian snorted. “Todd, you are the _least experienced_ of us all. Until recently you were quite eager to murder all of us.” 

“I’m a fast learner,” Jason countered. “And you were all acting very murderable and besides—Siblings 101—it is _normal_ to want to murder your siblings once in a while.” 

“I’m pretty sure the ‘once in a while’ is important,” Tim noted. 

“Ah, what’d you know, Replacement, you were a lonely only like the rest of us.” 

“Lonely only?” Cass and Dick repeated at the same time, and Jason pointed a finger at them. 

“You can’t do that, you’re not twins.” 

“All hail Jason Peter Todd,” Tim said drily. “High Lord over the laws of siblinghood.” 

“And don’t you forget it, Replacement.” 

“Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? By the way—what the heck kind of insult is ‘Replacement’ anyways? The more you say it the more it sounds like it has to do with a table setting.” 

“It's not an insult, it’s a fact,” Jason scoffed. “And I thought you were the smart one?” Tim opened his mouth to retort but Jason spoke over him. “See, I’m the replacement for Golden Boy, you’re the replacement for me, Cass is Cass, and Demon Brat is the replacement for you. I mean, why the hell else would Bruce adopt _four_ black-haired blue-eyed almost-white siblingless street kids with tragic backstories and their dad’s names as middle names?” 

Cass chuckled. 

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Middle names? That’s a new one.” 

Dick sat up to look at Jason. “But I thought your dad’s name was Willis?” 

Jason shrugged. “Peter Willis Todd, went by Willis. Dunno why. Don’t care either.” 

“More importantly,” Tim interjected, “ _street kids_?” 

Jason nodded sagely. “Well, Dickie here was on the streets for a bit after running from JDC, yeah?” Dick nodded slowly. “Well, that makes him a street kid. And you might’ve had fancy-pants rich parents, Timmy boy, but you _also_ spent every night since Dickie’s circus running the streets, yeah? Street kid.” He looked smug. 

Damian waited a moment, but Jason appeared to be done. Annoyed and a little insulted, he cleared his throat. “I’d like to point out that your arguments are _completely incorrect_ , seeing as I am neither a “street kid” nor do I have Father’s name as my middle name.” 

Four sets of eyes swung towards him. 

“Hm,” Cass said (Damian had no idea what exactly it was supposed to mean). 

“True,” Dick admitted. 

“Seriously?” Jason looked intrigued. 

“Wait, what _is_ your middle name then?” Tim asked. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I don’t _have one_ , Drake.” 

“Somehow that really doesn’t sound right,” Dick said slowly. 

The following moments of silence made Damian uncomfortable. Those moments of silence, he knew, never meant anything good. 

“Damian Bruce Wayne,” Jason announced. 

Ah. Point proven. He opened his mouth to protest. 

“Sounds good,” Cass said solemnly. Dick and Tim were nodding their agreement. 

“Don’t be inane, Todd. You cannot simply— _declare_ a name for me.” 

Jason smirked at him before dropping to his back again. “Well, we’ll just see about that, Damian B. Wayne. Now, _Replacement_ , if you could FINALLY shove that fan over.”


	2. 2 - Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian doesn't know why he hadn't expected this from Drake.

He should have known better, really, but the thing was, when Damian opened the secure messaging system to find the file from Drake, he was genuinely confused. 

_DBW-Case 142_. 

Drake was not in his bedroom, nor the most-frequented family room, the library, or the least-frequented family room. Damian encountered Alfred in the kitchen, and decided it was only prudent and time-saving to ask him if he knew where Drake had disappeared to. 

“I believe Master Timothy is...downstairs,” the butler replied, not turning from the silver he was polishing. Damian could _feel_ the disapproval radiating from him and with a hasty word of thanks, retreated from the room. 

*** 

Drake sat before the batcomputer, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the console, hands placed one over the other with his chin resting on top. His overly-large Star Wars mug sat by his left elbow. 

“Drake.” 

Timothy did not move. At all. “Damian.” 

“I got the file you sent me.” 

“Do I get a thank you?” 

“Tt. Don’t be inane, Drake.” 

“Hmph.” Drake dropped his arms and slumped back against the chair. “You know, you all could stand to show a little _appreciation_ once in a while.” 

“Drake.” 

“Yes, Damian.” 

“Why is the file labelled DBW?” 

“They’re your initials.” 

“Pardon?” 

Drake finally turned his head to send Damian a raised eyebrow before turning back to the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “It stands for Demon Brat Wayne. Don’t be _inane_ , Damian. Damian Bruce Wayne. DBW? C’mon, I know I’m supposed to be the smart one but _seriously_.” 

Damian Bruce—what? Damian scowled and folded his arms. “Tt. I don’t see how you can claim to be the smart one after that statement, Drake.” 

Drake paused, and turned to look at him, both eyebrows raised. 

Damian bristled, and finally clarified. “That is _not_ my name.” 

Timothy stared for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “Ah, Damian.” He turned back to the screen and said no more. 

It was Tim’s patented I’m-just-going-to-walk-away-because-you-are-obviously-delusional-and-it-is-no-use-explaining-anything-to-you gesture. 

Damian hated that one. 

“That is _not my name_ ,” Damian insisted, “no matter _what_ you and Todd claim,” and no, he did not _stomp_ back up the stairs. 


	3. 3 - Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankly, this is getting ridiculous. (And maybe a little out of hand.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I didn't abandon it!  
> No, I promise I'm gonna finish this :)  
> I already know one of the 5 and the +1, but the two in between were giving me some trouble.  
> Unedited but if I don't post it now I'm afraid I won't for another three months. Hope it's alright :D

Damian raised his eyes to the sky and wondered just _how_ he’d ended up in this situation. 

He stood under a hoop in the basketball court beside the playground at Robbins Park (Ivy was in Arkham, currently, so Gotham, being Gotham, was making full use of the park while they could.) Jon Kent stood next to him, a basketball clutched tightly to his chest, shifting from one foot to the other. Grayson stood a few feet away with a man in a black suit and a scowl on his face. Dick was speaking and gesturing, a vaguely apologetic look on his face. 

If it had been anyone else, Damian would have been keeping a sharp ear on the conversation, but Dick would have it handled. ( _Numerous_ episodes involving one or the other of his ridiculous siblings and—alright, himself—utilizing Dick’s legendary charm to escape awkward conversations at galas had proved this to him.) 

Besides, there was something more pressing on his mind. 

Damian leaned over. “ _Bruce?”_ he hissed. “ _Really,_ Kent?” 

Jon’s eyes widened and he threw his hands up. “I’m _sorry_! I panicked!” 

“Of all the names--” 

“It’s just your dad’s name! It can’t be that bad can it?” 

“Come on boys,” Dick announced from in front of them. Jon jumped. Damian didn’t so much as flinch, choosing to continue glaring at the boy he’d considered a friend. 

Dick put a hand on each of their shoulders, turning them around and hurrying them away. Damian couldn’t see his face but-- 

“Would you wipe that ridiculous smile off your face, Grayson.” 

“I’m not smiling, Dames.” 

“He’s not anymore,” Jon confirmed, ducking a quick glance at the man. 

“Grayson. If anyone hears of this...” 

“My lips are sealed.” 

Damian grit his teeth. As much as Grayson was an...acceptable brother, he still had his...moments. “Oracle already has film, doesn’t she,” he said flatly. 

Dick squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry, Little D.” 

“You’re smiling again.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“He was,” Jon confided. “And he stopped again.” 

“By the way, Jon, a bit of advice.” And he wasn’t laughing, but he was _laughing_ , Damian could tell. “Come up with a couple of fake names in advance. Something that’s a common enough name, but one you can remember quickly—you could even pull a name from a book, or someone at school, if it helps.” 

Jon ducked his head, blushing. 

Damian did not feel the need to interrupt. 

“Then if you ever _do_ need an alias,” (for real, he doesn’t say) “you’ll have them ready. Throwing out your middle names isn’t usually the best idea. If you’re up against someone with malicious intent—and even if they don’t have a lot of resources—things could get _bad_ if you give them ‘Sam and Bruce’ and they find out about a Jonathan Samuel Kent and Damian Bruce Wayne.” 

He did _not_. “ _Grayson!”_ he hissed, although now he was wondering why he’d expected any better. 

“Better have a name that has no actual connection to you, or at most only a vague one.” 

Jon was nodding thoughtfully, and Damian knew the exact moment it hit him. His whole body froze. 

“Wait, your middle name is Bruce?” 

“No,” Damian snapped, at the same time that Grayson cheerfully answered “Yup!” 

Jon blinked. 

They’d reached the parking lot. Grayson ignored Damian’s glare as he pulled open the door of his blue mustang. “You guys need a ride?” 

“No _thank you_ , Grayson,” Damian growled, and Dick shot him a grin. He was _laughing_ again, the— 

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight. Bye, Jon.” 

He shut the door, started the car and was gone. 

“I’m confused.” 

Damian sighed. 

After twenty minutes of trying to explain to Jon the intricacies of the idiotic endeavors of older siblings that only left the boy even _more_ confused (he somehow had this insufferable sense of _awe_ regarding Conner Kent), Damian gave up and simply extracted a promise that Jon _never_ mention the incident, or the “middle name”, to _anyone_. _Especially_ not Conner. 

Lord knew what a mess it would be if the clone started spreading rumors. 

(He hoped it wasn’t just a fool’s errand.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is going to be a THING now, isn't it. Damian wonders why he bothers to keep fighting.)


	4. 4 - Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all people, he hadn't expected it from Cassandra. He should have known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...took longer than I'd hoped. I got a bit stuck with Cass's part, so sorry 'bout that :P It's honestly largely unedited but I hope y'all enjoy :)

To be honest, Damian didn’t expect it from _Cass_. 

He should have known better. 

He and Jon Kent had been at the Kents’ farm, playing video games, when Drake, Superboy, Impulse, Wondergirl and Cassandra had shown up. 

What, exactly, Cassandra was doing with them, Damian was not completely sure. 

Naturally, with Damian and Drake in the same place chaos was inevitable. 

(The presence of Young Justice did not help. Meanwhile, the two others simply watched—Cassandra amused, Jon bemused. Neither lifted a finger or said a word to help Damian. The traitors.) 

In the end, Jonathan’s mother had come in to scold them and inform them that she expected silence for the next hour. 

Lois Lane-Kent was a force to reckon with. She reminded Damian somewhat of Pennyworth. 

It was Drake who suggested the game, something he’d played with bored school friends when he was younger. It involved picking letters of the alphabet and having each person write down a person, place, animal and thing beginning with the letter within 30 seconds. Unique answers got full points, duplicates got half, and anything that was disqualified got none. 

So here they were, seated in the circle, each with a scrap of paper and a writing instrument. 

Jon was practically bouncing. “Can I go first?” 

Sandsmark (Damian does not understand how anyone can _not_ get confused referring to both her and Cassandra as Cass and Cassie) smiles indulgently. “Of course, Jon.” 

“I pick D!” Jon exclaimed, and everyone was instantly scribbling. 

Person. Damian briefly considered Grayson, glanced at Cassandra hunched over her paper, and went with Diego Rivera instead. Drake. Dubai. Dragon egg. Dragon--? 

The alarm set on the clone’s phone trilled, and Drake announced, “Pencils down, everyone!” He turned to smile at Jon. “You go first, Jon.” 

Jon lifted his paper. “Damian Wayne.” Damian rolled his eyes. Of course. “Donkey, Danny’s Diner, desk.” 

Timothy tilted his head at Damian, seated to Jon’s right. He took the cue. 

“Diego Rivera. Drake--” 

“Hey!” 

“It’s a bird!” he snapped. Considered. Hm. What if he _hadn’t_ clarified... 

Cassandra nudged him with her shoulder. Damian cleared his throat. “Dubai.” He paused. “Dragon egg.” 

The clone boy raised a hand. “That’s two words.” 

Timothy shrugged. “It’s one thing. You’re next, Cass.” 

Sandsmark made a face. “Damian Wayne.” This got her some raised eyebrows, and she shrugged. “I panicked, okay? Delaware. Dragon. Dot.” 

“Wait, wait,” Conner interrupted. “Does dragon count as an animal?” 

Timothy smirked in Damian’s direction, and he couldn’t help but smirk back. “Dragon counts.” 

“Oooooooh, I wanna hear that story!” Impulse shouted. Damian blinked and casually looked away. Father, Richard and Timothy may have gotten used to it but watching blurry, vibrating speedsters still gave him a headache. 

“Your turn Bart,” Tim said. 

“Donna Troy, donkey,” he shrugged apologetically at Jon, “Denmark, decimal.” 

“Decimal.” 

“ _Decimal_.” 

“David Bowie,” Drake recited. “Deer Park, dove, deuterostome.” 

“What?” Impulse leaned over Timothy’s shoulder to peer at his paper. 

“Don’t ask. Oceanography is _hell_ this semester, apparently.” 

“So how do we know it’s even a real word?” The clone. Again. 

Sandsmark raised her phone. “It’s a word.” 

“I’m not gonna ask how you managed to spell that enough to look it up.” 

“Whatever. Your turn, Kon.” 

“Donald Trump, dog, Delaware,” Conner sent an apologetic glance to Sandsmark, who made a face again. “Drawing.” 

All eyes turned to Cassandra, who carefully lifted her paper to her eyes. 

“Damian Bruce Wayne...” 

Damian shot up, paper and pen falling to the floor. “ _CASSANDRA!”_

The clone boy was already laughing. “ _Bruce_? No, Really?” as Sandsmark asked, “Wait, what?” 

Jon blinked. “I thought it was a secret?” 

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me, Jon? C’mon man, we’re practically brothers!” 

Cassandra watched them all serenely. “It’s not a secret.” 

“It’s not _real_!” Damian shouted. 

“I am so confused right now,” Bart said. Then reached out to toe at Timothy’s shoulder. “You okay there, Tim?” 

Drake was doubled over, breathless with laughter. Damian hoped he’d choke on it. The older boy waved a hand and buried his face in his knees, shoulders shaking. 

“That’s actually kinda cute,” Sandsmark said. 

“ _THAT’S NOT MY NAME!”_

Fool’s errand, indeed. 

He was _doomed_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis: They didn't even last fifteen minutes...
> 
> Jon is bouncing on his feet. “Can I go first?”  
> Cassie (And wasn’t that confusing...) smiles. “Of course.”  
> “I pick D!”  
> Cassandra: Damian Bruce Wayne...  
> “CASSANDRA!”  
> Jon: I thought it was a secret?  
> Conner: Wait WHAT?!  
> Cassandra: It’s not a secret.  
> Cassie: Wait, seriously?  
> Bart: ...I’m confused. Why is Tim laughing?  
> Tim: doubled over laughing too hard to actually say anything.  
> Fools errand, indeed. Damian was doomed. 
> 
> "Name, place, animal, thing" is an old game I used to play with my sibs. You can play with an endless amount of players and it's less likely to devolve into chaos than charades or pictionary.  
> Usually. Ehem.  
> Also I have a story in "I'm Being Followed by a Moonshadow" where Dick and Tim give Damian a baby dragon as a birthday present. It just kinda popped into my head.


	5. 5 - Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian's already having a bad day when an argument breaks out during family dinner.  
> (The name thing almost goes unacknowledged--then doesn't. Thank you, Jason.)

It was official. Damian _hated_ family dinners. 

He would have rather stayed up in his bedroom with Titus, his sketchbook, and his rainy day playlist, but. Family dinner, and Alfred’s rules, and he didn’t quite want to ask to be excused because he, for some nameless reason, just wanted to stay in bed all day. 

Cassandra had returned to Hong Kong just yesterday, but all three of his older brothers were present and accounted for. Unfortunately. 

Grayson had talked Pennyworth into sitting down with them, and as the dishes were passed around the table, Drake and Todd’s conversation had taken a turn that Damian would really rather it had not. 

In short, news of Damian’s ‘middle name’ had leaked out. Damian _knew_ that nothing good would come of the clone boy hearing the rumors. 

“...And then it’s Cass’s turn,” Drake said, taking the dish of broccoli from Grayson. “And she just starts off with, ‘ _Damian Bruce Wayne’...”_

Todd spit...something...out into his plate as Grayson spluttered and choked on his glass of water. Damian wrinkled his nose. Disgusting. Both of them. 

Drake was snickering, precariously balancing the dish of broccoli over his plate. 

“Boys,” Pennyworth scolded mildly as he served himself from the dish of potatoes. 

“Sorry, Alfred,” Grayson coughed, as Todd spit out, “ _Cass_? No.” 

“I can’t believe you’re surprised, Jason,” Tim said, suddenly serene, as he passed the broccoli on to Father, who just watched them all with a largely flat expression and one raised eyebrow. 

Damian hates his siblings. 

It was inevitable, really, that something would go wrong. And whilst normally he and Drake could volley back and forth for about 34 minutes before coming to blows, Damian just knew he was feeling terrible and _irritated_ and it was some small comment about Damian’s place in a zoo (which he would normally have had a witty retort for; whose last name was that of an animal, anyways?) only 12 minutes in that just made some kind of dam. Snap. 

Next thing he knew, he was standing, chair shoved back behind him, and his fork was hurtling in Drake’s direction. The older boy gave an undignified yelp as he ducked. 

“ _Damian_ ,” Grayson began, but Damian spoke right over him. 

“What would you know, anyways, Drake? If there is anyone who does not _belong_ in this family--” 

“ _Damian Bruce Wayne_ , you will apologize _this instant_.” 

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. 

Father looked up, opened his mouth, and blinked. Drake, wide eyed, nudged Grayson with an elbow as Todd stared at Pennyworth, openmouthed. 

Not that Damian noticed any of that. He was focused on the elderly butler, who was watching him with stern eyes. 

“I apologize, Pennyworth.” Pennyworth continued to stare, so Damian swallowed bitterly and continued, “And you, Drake.” 

Drake blinked, and nodded back at him. 

He still looked like he’d just had a firework exploded in his face but. Well. Grayson looked largely the same. 

Todd finally closed his mouth and swallowed, and Damian couldn’t help a wince at the painful-sounding gulp. 

“Well,” Todd huffed hoarsely, slouching back in his seat. “That just makes it official.” 

Grayson finally shook himself out of his stupor, sending Jason a reprimanding look. “ _Jason_.” 

“May I be excused,” Damian muttered, and just barely waited for Pennyworth’s acknowledgement before he fled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the thing is I normally don't touch this unless I'm in the mood for writing something happy and funny and a little nonsensical, which apparently, I'm not really, right now. Which is why this one's not quite as lighthearted?  
> But hey, the word was PRECIOUS, and family is still precious even when someone's having an off day.  
> (Also now that this is written and even though I'm not completely happy with it. I don't have the heart to get rid of it.)


	6. 1 - Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first time of many.

Drake opened his door without invitation about twenty minutes later, wordlessly set a cup of hot chocolate on the bedside table, then turned right around and walked back out. 

It was both an acknowledgement and an apology, and Damian. Well. This was _Drake_ , and Damian’s inbred distaste for revealing any hint of weakness was rather difficult to shake off, so. He was irritated, and maybe just a little embarrassed, but he appreciated it. 

Only because it was _Pennyworth’s hot chocolate_. 

Father came into his room another fifteen minutes later. Damian was still sitting against the pillows on his bed, Titus curled up by his side. He glanced away from the book set on his knees to watch Father close the door behind him, then returned to the book and continued stroking Titus’s fur between his ears. 

Father approached in silence, and settled on the edge of the bed. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “What are you reading?” 

“Poe,” Damian replied shortly. 

The silence that followed was awkward, but Damian refused to acknowledge it. 

“You know, just because Alfred says something is official doesn’t mean it actually is.” 

“Tt. Obviously.” 

Silence, again. Damian turned a page, even though he hadn’t read more than three sentences of the last. 

“So I’ve just recently been informed that all of your brothers have their father’s names as middle names.” 

“That’s the first you’ve heard of it? Todd has been going on about it for months now.” 

Father turned so he was more fully facing him. “Damian?” 

“Yes, Father?” 

“Why does it bother you?” 

“...It’s not my name.” 

Father nodded, slowly, started to say something. Seemed to change his mind. 

_Twenty bucks he does it three times before he actually talks,_ Todd’s voice whispered in his head, and Damian had to suppress a snort as he waited. 

“Would you like it to be?” Father asked, face and voice both very neutral. 

Damian started to click his tongue but paused halfway, flushing at the odd sound that resulted. 

“Is that possible?” 

Father’s expression didn’t change. “If you want it to be.” 

Damian...considered. Todd’s ridiculous patterns. The name of the man sitting beside him—his father. Tried the words in his head a few times. 

_Bruce. Damian Bruce Wayne._

Well, everyone had pretty much already assumed it was his name, anyways, hadn’t they? 

“I...might.” 

Father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Just let me know if you do,” he said softly, and started to stand. 

Wait. Damian grabbed his arm, and fought the flush as Father turned to look at him. 

“I would like that,” he said quickly. 

Father smiled. 

Damian would question his decision over the next few days. It seemed...such a lengthy process for so small a reason. Paperwork. A _newspaper publication_ , of all things. And the court. 

But, well, he’d committed. And Father was...very much committed. 

Damian would forever deny that he’d _stomped_ down the hall to Father’s study. Drake, trailing behind him and not even bothering to _attempt_ to hide his smirk, would forever deny his denials. 

“Father!” he called ( _whined_ , Drake insisted, no he did not Drake shut up) as he threw open the door. 

A little harder than he’d meant to. 

The door slammed against the wall, and Pennyworth fumbled the teapot he’d had poised over two teacups. 

Dark brown liquid pooled on Father’s desk. 

Father’s first reaction was to grab one folder off the desk, flip it over, check for stain, and breathe a sigh of relief. Before he went rigid. 

“My apologies, Master Bruce,” Pennyworth said, grabbing a napkin to swipe at the spilt tea. Father hurried grabbed a handful and joined in vigorously. “The papers are safe, I assume? Master Damian, _please_ abstain from slamming doors.” 

“I apologize, Pennyworth,” Damian said, at the same time as Father said, “Did you need something, Damian?” and Drake whirled around and started to walk briskly down the hall. 

Damian blinked. “I...” he glanced behind him. Timothy was gone. 

Well. Making his complaint in Timothy’s absence would make him sound like a whiny _child_. 

“No, Father.” And he sprinted off after Tim. 

“Where are you going?” 

Timothy’s smirk had been replaced by a grin. The one he got when he was about to either embarrass someone enough to make them consider finding a room to hole up in for the next five years or utterly destroy someone’s master plan in the middle of their Villain Dialogue. “Did you see his _face_?” 

Damian frowned slightly, replaying the scene in his mind. 

“You _startled_ them. And Bruce was _embarrassed_. We need to get our hands on the footage before it disappears.” 

Well. After years of living in this family, Damian could appreciate the value of blackmail. “I want a copy, Timothy.” 

Tim shrugged. “I guess that’s fair.” 

It was only later that Damian learned the folder had held the name change paperwork. 

“Now _he’s_ embarrassed,” Tim had stage-whispered to Cass over Facetime, and the both of them burst into laughter. 

Damian knew it was likely more at the memory of Father than at Damian himself. 

“Drake, I suggest you stop laughing _voluntarily_.” 

Drake blinked at him, then promptly fell off the couch laughing. 

“ _I swear to God, Drake, stop laughing before_ _I make you_.” 

Damian’s cheeks burned. 

(The warmth that tingled through his fingertips, though. That was...different.) 

Jumping Drake seemed a suitable distraction. 

Jason teased him when Father put out the newspaper publication. 

“Breaking news, huh? Bet it makes the front page.” 

Unfortunately, Jason turned out to be right. 

On the plus side, Damian got to stay home from school for a week. 

“Too many vultures,” Father muttered, half-engrossed with paperwork. 

Dick and Tim had spent the next hour in fits of laughter, and Damian found napkins scribbled with caricatures of prominent tabloid reporters with large black wings or vulture heads. 

Damian would swear the pair had been drunk, but Dick didn’t drink and Tim tended to avoid it, being underage and all. Not that Damian wasn’t aware of certain _incidents_ that would never be revealed due to Drake’s unfortunate, and (he would grudgingly admit) rather underrated, talent for sneak photography. 

Jon figured that meant they must have gotten sugar highs. Damian had started to disagree, but his father’s children were all _literal children_. 

It wasn’t actually too implausible an idea. 

The visit to the courthouse almost felt like too much. 

But Alfred had sent him up to change, and had left out a set of his more formal slacks and nicer shirts out on the bed. 

Damian couldn’t back out now. 

But it was all worth it as he and Father stepped out of the Gotham Courthouse. 

“Well, it’s done,” Father announced. Eyed Damian, lips curling the smallest bit at the corners. “Damian Bruce Wayne.” 

Damian couldn’t help the smile (admittedly larger than Father’s) that spread over his own face. 

He was only _slightly_ surprised when Father put an arm around his shoulders and drew him into his side. 

Of course, that was the moment he was almost blinded. 

Drake grinned at him from the bottom of the steps. “Cheese,” he said. 

“What are you doing here, Drake,” Damian muttered, rubbing his eyes. (He was almost certain Drake never actually _needed_ the obnoxious flashes, and only randomly flashed light bulbs in people’s faces to annoy them.) 

“We wouldn’t miss something as important as this, Dames,” Grayson grinned, appearing next to Drake. 

Todd tossed an arm over the two brothers’ shoulders. ”Congrats, everyone. I’ll stop calling y’all mini-Bruces now that we officially have a legal mini-Bruce.” 

Cass elbowed him. “Be nice,” she chided. 

Jason scowled and elbowed her back. “ _You_ be nice,” he shot back, and the two promptly started violently knocking their elbows against each other. Drake edged away, cradling his camera. 

Damian rolled his eyes. Father caught his eye, and Damian met his long-suffering expression with one of his own. 

Drake’s camera flashed again. 

“ _Drake_!” 

About three days later, Damian was walking through the main hall on the third floor of the west wing and happened to look at the cluster of photographs set above the mahogany table with the Egyptian vase they all knew Father hated, for some unknown reason. 

(Popular theories included: it invoked trauma involving a League mission and a genie, Father has a hidden phobia of mummies from too many horror movies as a child, he bought it during a spite bid and received a scolding from Pennyworth for his trouble.) 

There were four photographs. All of them taken on the steps of the Gotham courthouse. All of them of two people, all of them smiling. And in all of them, one of those two people was Father. 

All of them taken the day one of Damian’s siblings had been adopted. 

If he was being honest with himself, Damian didn’t just...not notice the photographs. He actually tended to avoid looking at this particular set. 

But he happened to glance their way today, and instead of four photographs, there were five. 

“Oi, Demon Brat, you fall asleep up there?” Jason hollered up the stairs. 

“I have class tomorrow,” Tim chimed in. “Would kinda prefer if we could head out some day today.” 

“Boys,” Father said. 

“Give the boy time to get his hair just right,” Dick interrupted, and Damian could hear the grin in his voice. 

“I recall a certain young man spending quite some time before the mirror each morning,” Alfred joined in drily. 

“Aw, c’mon Alfie. I have amazing hair, it’s only fair I give it my very best.” 

“Show appreciation,” Cass agreed. 

“You are all ridiculous,” Damian called down. He glanced at the five frames on the wall one last time, allowing himself a smile. 

And took his time heading down the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! There's that. This was pretty much how I'd planned the story to go since the very beginning lol. Hope it didn't disappoint :)  
> Might come back to edit this someday tbh, but these days I'm usually deathly afraid to come near this one, so we'll see.
> 
> Also:  
> 1\. As a second-youngest once famous for fighting with the youngest, I've trailed him when he went to tattle to see how he told the story lol.  
> 2\. Dick and Tim were actually very sleep deprived and hopped up on caffeine.  
> 3.This one was supposed to be light-hearted and funny, I'm kinda afraid this chapter came across as kinda ridiculous? Idk lol I shouldn't even be awake rn.  
> 4\. (Yes, I, too, am sleep-deprived and hopped up on caffeine.)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I messed with Jason’s dad’s name to fit into the story. But hey, it could completely have happened. Maybe Willis Todd hated whichever Peter he was named after. (Also when I first got this idea I genuinely couldn’t remember his name so...)


End file.
